


Confessions

by otayuriistheliteralbest



Series: Accidental First Date [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Confessions, Fluff, Future Fic, I haven't written in so long but I loved this!!, I hope you like it, I want to write more social media style fics, M/M, OtaYuri Week 2017, Social Media, for MadamRed, ice tiger of russia, otayuri - Freeform, those are super fun!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9889916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otayuriistheliteralbest/pseuds/otayuriistheliteralbest
Summary: Inspired by MadamRed's Fulfillment! Yuri is 22 and complaining about how handsy Viktor and Yuuri are to Yakov...and accidentally asks Otabek out on a date.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fulfilment](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9872066) by [MadamRed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamRed/pseuds/MadamRed). 



“I’m just so sick of Katsudon and Viktor being so lovey-dovey all the time!” Yuri growled to Yakov, scuffing the sickeningly bright carpet with his leopard-print shoes. He stood with his coach off to the side in the hotel lobby, waiting for the two lovebirds to emerge from their room so they could go out to dinner. It was two days before the Grand Prix Final was set to start. This year, it was held in Nagoya, Japan, and all the Ice Tiger of Russia wanted to do was eat some soba at some hole in the wall restaurant and then crash on his giant hotel bed for the rest of the night.

It had been seven years since Yuri’s senior debut in the Grand Prix Final, and his body had _finally_ stopped growing. He shot up like a weed in those years, with the muscles in his shoulders and arms filling out. Yuri was taller than both Viktor and Otabek, something that he liked to lord over them as often as possible.

The older couple had moved to Japan once they had both retired. Viktor continued to coach young figure skaters, while Yuuri returned to school to become a sports psychologist. The two ex-pro-figure skaters were only at the Grand Prix Final this year to “support their little Yurio.” The thought made Yuri gag but, in truth, he was happy the couple had flown out to Nagoya for him - something he would only ever admit to Otabek, late at night after the whole competition was over, and even then probably only if he were either very drunk or half-asleep. Or both.

The thought of his best friend made Yuri’s stomach flutter. They were competing against each other again this year, as they did quite often since that time in Barcelona. He couldn’t wait for the other man to get in the following morning; he shot him a quick WhatsApp text while he was thinking about it.

Otabek (bear emoji)  
_< hey beka, when r u getting in? cant wait to see you                  21:04_

Little blue check marks lit up shortly after he sent the text.

_> My flight lands early, so I should be at the hotel by...8am?       21:05_

Yuri tilted his head forward so that his long blond hair covered his face and smiled at his phone, quickly typing back.

_< awesome! Text me when u land, ok?                                        21:05_

_> Of course. See you tomorrow, Yura. Sleep well.                        21:06_

Yuri shoved the phone back into his hoodie’s pocket and looked up at his coach, who stood silently beside him, a winter coat wrapped tightly around him as usual even though they were indoors. The old man got cold easily, amusing Yuri to no end, especially given the sport they were in.

“They shouldn’t be out in public like that, seriously!” He declared to the older man.

Yakov rolled his eyes at his young pupil’s complaints. The old man had grown used to them over the years, and no longer berated his star skater for his harsh criticisms. He was only waiting with Yuri until Vitya and his Yuuri came down. He didn’t trust the young skater alone in the hotel lobby where Yuri’s Angels and Grand Prix Final reporters could be lurking.

“You would think,” Yuri continued, undeterred by his coach’s silence, “that after being together for so long and being _married_ for five years, they wouldn’t be so… handsy around other people. But _no_ , they’re always kissing or hugging each other. It’s disgusting!” The young skater huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, tapping his foot impatiently.

A startled laugh came from behind the two waiting men, and they turned to see Yuuri and Viktor coming over from the elevators. The Japanese man reached over to ruffle Yuri’s blonde wavy hair. “You just don’t understand us yet because you haven’t found your special someone, Yurio,” the retired skater told him. Viktor nodded, coming up behind his husband to peck him on the cheek and wrap an arm around his shoulders.

Yuri bristled at the other Yuuri’s words. “Yes I have!” He sputtered indignantly. “In fact, we’ve made plans all ready to go out to dinner once the Grand Prix is over.” The Russian skater pulled this information out of his ass, having no such plans, but said it as definitively as he could muster, glaring down the older Yuuri.

Yuuri merely gave him a knowing smile, hmmming at him in a way that made Yuri want to punch the smirk off his face.

“Whatever, old man,” Yuri muttered. “Let’s get going, I want to sleep early tonight.”

\---

Several days later, Yuri Plisetsky - three-time Grand Prix Final gold medalist - stood outside the hotel waiting for Otabek to go out on a ride with him. The wind whipped through his hair, even covered as it was by the hood of his sweater. He didn’t notice; the twenty-two-year-old was still riding the high of winning the Grand Prix Final again after so many years.

Yuri had worked hard to get back up to the level he attained before his body decided to change and grow on him, and even then he wasn’t as flexible as he used to be. He hadn’t won gold in the Grand Prix Final in years, and it was an exhilarating feeling to be at that level once more. Not only that, but his best friend had stood at the podium right next to him, a silver medal gleaming on his chest. Yuri couldn’t be more proud of Otabek, who had come so far since their first Grand Prix Final together.

The self-proclaimed Russian Punk’s heart fluttered in his chest; while he tried to pretend that it was just from the excitement of winning and standing tall on the podium with his best friend, he knew it was more than that. He kept his feelings quiet for so long now that it was easy to just pretend that they weren’t there, that he wasn’t in love with his best friend. Yuri didn’t want to lose Beka, and so had never acted on his feelings. It was better this way - to at least be with the Kazakh skater as friends, even if they could never be more.

They Skyped and texted daily, sharing everything about their lives with each other. Beka was so ingrained into Yuri’s life that the twenty-two-year-old wouldn’t know what to do with himself if that space were suddenly vacated. His heart ached just thinking about it.

Shaking his head to ward away those thoughts, Yuri banged his head against the wall outside the hotel where he was waiting, bundled up tight in a fleece and leather jacket against the cold December weather. He and Beka were going out on a motorcycle ride in any minute, and if he were still stewing in these thoughts, the older skater would see right through him. The blond winced in pain and rubbed the back of his head - he’d hit his head a little too hard against the stone wall.

“Yura!” There was only one person allowed to call Yuri _that_ nickname. Yuri turned toward his best friend with a happy, unguarded smile on his face - which faltered immediately when he saw the man standing next to Otabek. _Yuuri._ Shit.

“H-hi, Otabek. Katsudon, what are you doing out here?” Yuri hadn’t forgotten their conversation before the competition, and was hoping against hope that the older man had let it slip his mind.

“Oh, I just ran into Otabek here in the lobby,” Yuuri said. “He mentioned you two were going out for a ride, and since you’re leaving in the morning, I just thought I’d come out to say goodbye to you. Viktor’s at the bar drinking Ciao Ciao under the table, so he’ll be useless tomorrow.” Yuuri gave the younger man a not-so-innocent grin. “Well, I’ll be going back in now.”

Yuri breathed a big sigh of relief. Apparently Katsudon _had_ forgotten what he’d said about a date.

His hopes were dashed with the next words out of the Japanese man’s mouth.

“Good luck on your first date, Yurio~!” Yuuri spun on his heel as he spoke, his voice carrying in a sing-song tune that seemed to echo. _First date, date, date…_ He didn’t even bother to wait and see Yuri’s reaction, and jogged back into the hotel to rescue his husband from an alcohol-induced coma.

Beka glanced at the retreating man’s back, confusion showing on his face, and turned to his best friend. “Yura? What did he mean, ‘first date’?”

The Russian skater sputtered, wracking his brain for some kind of excuse, anything to get him out of this mess the Katsudon had created - ignoring the fact that it was, really, his own damn fault.

He took too long trying to come up with an excuse, and Beka took a couple of steps toward him. “Yuri?” He reached out a hand to the taller man’s shoulder and shook Yuri out of his reverie.

Yuri gave a stilted laugh, raking his hand through long blond hair and then shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets. “Well...well, you see…” he cleared his throat, sighed, and plowed through his explanation. “Those two are always all over each other in public and I’m getting sick of it. They heard me complain to Yakov and told me I’d understand when I found someone to love, and I lied and told them that I _did_ have someone, and we were going out on a date after the Grand Prix Final was over, and so when Katsudon saw you and heard we were going out, he just had to get one over on me and tease me and _I am so sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it at all and I thought that he had forgotten all about it-_ ” Yuri stopped to take a big gulp of air and heard a bark of laughter from the man standing in front of him. He glared at his best friend. “What’s so funny, huh?”

Beka hid a smile behind one hand, smoothing it out from his face, but Yuri could still see the smile in his eyes. The Russian skater was one of the few people who could make Otabek Altin smile, something that he normally would be very proud of, but right now, in this moment, was not one of them. He growled at the other man, which just made him lose his composure and laugh louder.

“I’m leaving if you’re going to be like this,” Yuri said sharply, turning on his heel to head back inside. Beka’s arm whipped out to block his hasty, embarrassed exit.

“Stop, Yura. I didn’t mean anything by it,” Beka’s voice rumbled. “It’s just...did you breathe at all in that entire speech? What got you so worked up? It can’t be _that_ serious, if it’s just a misunderstanding.”

Yuri’s heart pounded in his chest, aching with the emotions that whipped through him. His head dropped low, and he muttered, “ _I was worried that you’d be disgusted with me._ ”

All trace of laughter left his best friend’s voice. “Now why on earth would you think that?”

The Kazakh skater stepped toward Yuri, worry etched in every line of his body. Yuri stood rigidly, then deflated, leaning his head against the shorter man’s shoulder. He couldn’t keep everything bottled up anymore, couldn’t pretend that just being friends was enough for him. Either there was something there, something between them - or it was all over. It hurt too much for it to be any other way.

“I thought you would be disgusted because I wanted it-” his voice broke. He took a deep breathe and plowed on, leaning back and breaking his head’s contact with his friend’s shoulder “-because I want it to be true.” Tears leaked down the Russian man’s face. He didn’t notice them until he felt a hand brush them from his cheeks and tilt his head up.

“Yura,” the older skater whispered. “I want that, too. I was so worried about pushing you away that I never said anything, but-” Yuri cut him off with the feeling of lips crashing together. He still wasn’t sure if this was some kind of mistake, a dream that he was about to wake from, but the Russian figure skater didn’t care anymore. He put everything into the kiss, all of his love and fear and excitement for the future. Beka only hesitated for a moment before bringing his arms up to wrap tightly around his best friend’s neck, pulling him closer until they were pressed flush to one another.

After several minutes, Yuri broke away from the kiss. Silent tears continued to stream down his face and Otabek lightly kissed the tracks they made down his friend’s cheeks, his arms still wrapped around the taller man’s neck.

“Will you go out with me? On a date?” It was a whisper in Russian, and would have been lost on the wind that whipped lightly around them if not for the fact that they stood so close to one another, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

The Kazakh man let out a light chuckle and kissed Yuri’s swollen lips once, twice, and then responded.

“Where would you like to go?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my friend Sasha for beta'ing! (Yes, if you've read Fulfillment, we found this amusing as well.) Sasha wants another chapter, let me know if you want me to continue this fic! *heart*
> 
> Also, if you're interested in reading more about Sports Psychology, I read this article before writing the fic, which is what inspired me to make that Yuuri's field after he retires: http://web.icenetwork.com/news/2016/07/19/190304204


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